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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208109">The Amanda Anderson Collection: Escaping the Prison</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aguyofmanythings/pseuds/aguyofmanythings'>aguyofmanythings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Amanda Anderson Collection [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harvey Street Kids (Cartoon), Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Henry Stickmin Retelling, prison break - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:26:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,817</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aguyofmanythings/pseuds/aguyofmanythings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Following her attempted break-in of the Bank, Amanda Anderson now sits in West Mesa Penitentiary... but she won't be there for long.</p><p>Amanda Anderson © LoudHarveyLefty<br/>Harvey Girls Forever! © DreamWorks<br/>The Henry Stickmin Collection © PuffballsUnited, Innersloth</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Amanda Anderson Collection [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2063844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Amanda kicked the concrete floor and sighed. She had only been at West Mesa Penitentiary for around ten days or so, yet it seemed like she had been cooped up here forever. “So this is what my life has come to. It’s so boring, being stuck here…” she grumbled to herself. She used a piece of concrete from the floor to scratch another tally mark on the wall, making eleven altogether. Not having anything else to do, she laid down in defeat.</p><p>“Oi, you!” called a voice. Amanda sat up and turned to the door of her cell. Police officer Rupert Price had apparently decided to pay her a visit, along with his co-worker Dava Panpa.</p><p>“What do you want?” Amanda asked, an irritated tone to her voice.</p><p>“You’re free to go.” Rupert replied.</p><p>“Coo- wait, really?!” Amanda brightened up upon hearing this.</p><p>Rupert chuckled. “...Not really.”</p><p>“Way to get my hopes up…” Amanda groaned.</p><p>“But you’ve got a package.” The small food delivery hatch on the door of Amanda’s cell opened and a brown cardboard package slid through, landing on the concrete floor.</p><p>“Thanks, I guess…” said Amanda.</p><p>Rupert waved his hand up and down. “Don’t get your hopes up, girl. We’ve already checked it for anything useful. Haven’t we, Dave?”</p><p>“What?” replied Dave, confused. “Yeah, yeah! Of course I checked it! I mean, if I didn’t check it I’d lose my job, and I don’t wanna lose my job!” He chuckled nervously.</p><p>“See ya round.” taunted Rupert as he and Dave turned to walk away. “Free to go. I thought that was pretty good, didn’t you…?”</p><p>Amanda sighed. “That wasn’t very nice of him.” She turned to her package. Kneeling down and using her hands to open the flaps on the top, she pulled them aside to reveal… a cake.</p><p>“Oh, it’s a cake. I haven’t had cake in a while. Lucky me, I suppose…” Amanda thought.</p><p>Suddenly, the top of the cake opened, revealing it was not in fact a cake but rather a container with something useful inside.</p><p>“Huh…” Amanda mumbled, “there’s something useful in here. Guess they didn’t check it after all.” She then reached inside to retrieve the item.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <strong>What does Amanda pull out of the cake?</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="#section0002">File</a>
</p><p>
  <a href="#section0017">NrG Drink</a>
</p><p>
  <a href="#section0018">Teleporter</a>
</p><p>
  <a href="#section0019">Rocket Launcher</a>
</p><p>
  <a href="#section0031">Cellphone</a>
</p><p>
  <a href="#section0020">Drill</a>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. File</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda pulled out a metal file.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Okay, I have a file. Perhaps I could file away at the bars of my cell and get out that way.” Looking around, the trans girl was able to locate two ports of exit from her cell.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">What does Amanda use the file on?</span> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a class="" href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208109/chapters/69123198#workskin"> <span class="da-editor-underline">Window</span> </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a class="" href="#section0004"> <span class="da-editor-underline">Cell Door</span> </a>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Window</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Walking up to the window of her cell, Amanda carefully began filing away at one of the bars.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Once she had freed the bar from its attachments, she carefully placed it on the ground so she didn’t alert the guards with noise. She then climbed up and forced herself through the window…</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">… and fell eight stories to her death.</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">[FAIL]</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">Protip: Look before you leap.</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208109/chapters/69123102#workskin">
    <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span> </strong>
  </a>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Cell Door</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda walked over to the cell door. She took in a breath. “The guards will notice this, so I’ll have to act quickly.” She then began to carefully file away one of the bars making up the cell door.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Once she had gotten through, she took another breath and pushed the bar out, leaving her cell, but the noise also alerted Rupert Price. He turned around, noticed her, and swiftly charged at the escapee.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">What does Amanda do?</span> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0005"> <span class="da-editor-underline">Do Nothing</span> </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208109/chapters/69123597#workskin">
    <span class="da-editor-underline">Use Bar</span>
  </a>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Do Nothing (Rupert)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Once Rupert reached the trans escapee, he threw a roundhouse kick at her head, knocking her to the ground. He grinned maliciously at having thwarted Amanda’s escape attempt.</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">[FAIL]</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">You’ve got the reflexes of a statue, Amanda…</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">(Hint: Why don’t you try using that bar to defend yourself?)</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <a class="" href="#section0004"> <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span> </a> </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Use Bar (Rupert)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Rupert charged at Amanda, but with a well-timed swing of the bar she struck him in the head, knocking him out.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Phew…” Suddenly she heard footsteps behind her - Dave Panpa had also been alerted!</p><p> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">What does Amanda do?</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0007"> <span class="da-editor-underline">Do Nothing</span> </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0008">
    <span class="da-editor-underline">Use Bar</span>
  </a>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Do Nothing (Dave)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Ha!” yelled Dave.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Whipping out his taser, Dave jabbed it into Amanda’s flank, shocking her and causing her to drop the metal bar in her spasms. He mentally congratulated himself for a job well done.</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">[FAIL]</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, Amanda! There’s another guard coming!</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <a class="" href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208109/chapters/69123597#workskin"> <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span> </a> </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Use Bar (Dave)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Although Dave was fast, Amanda was faster. She swiftly turned 180 degrees and plowed the bar into Dave’s head to knock him out, the taser flying out of his hands.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Okay, that’s those two officers taken care of…” Amanda said to herself. She dropped the bar. There was an elevator at the far side of the corridor her cell was on. Amanda began strolling towards it, only for it to open. Carlos Burdt and Str8 Shoota were already in the elevator.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Aww tight!” said Srt8.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Both officers suddenly noticed Amanda in the hallway. “Hey, she’s escapin!” warned Carlos, but by the time he had finished that sentence Amanda had already locked herself in a nearby supply closet.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“That was close…” muttered Amanda. “...but this escape attempt is going well so far. Is there anything in here I can use?” Looking around, she saw two objects to use.</p><p> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">What does Amanda use?</span> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0009"> <span class="da-editor-underline">Belt of Grenades</span> </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0010">
    <span class="da-editor-underline">Chair</span>
  </a>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Belt of Grenades</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Explosions solve anything, right?” Amanda muttered. She pulled a grenade off of the belt. “Here goes…” Amanda swiftly pulled the pin out to prime the grenade, and then swung the door open and threw the explosive at the two officers.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Yo, check yourself!” Str8 warned.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda slammed the door shut, closed her eyes and covered her ears to prepare for the explosion. However, the noise of the ticking grenade turned out to be louder than she expected. She opened one of her eyes…</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">... to see the grenade had bounced off of the corridor’s back wall and flown back into the room with her.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Outside, the two guards heard Amanda yell “WHAT THE-”, followed by an explosion… and then silence.</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">[FAIL]</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">Uhh… I don’t even know what to say about that one...</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <a class="" href="#section0008"> <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span> </a> </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chair</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda looked up and saw a vent above her, with one of the metal panels missing. “Perhaps this vent leads somewhere…”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Pulling an old, broken chair over, Amanda was able to obtain the extra height needed to grab the vent’s edge and pull herself into it.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Alright, I’m in. Now which way to go?”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">Which way does Amanda go?</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208109/chapters/69123990#workskin">
    <span class="da-editor-underline">Left</span>
  </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0012">
    <span class="da-editor-underline">Right</span>
  </a>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Left</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">As Amanda crawled through the vent, she heard a conversation going on from a board meeting below her.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Now, all in favour of more doughnuts in the break room, say ‘aye’.”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Aye!” four other voices responded.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">One final small voice piped up. “Nay.”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Shut up janitor! You don’t count!” the first voice barked. “Now, the next item on the-”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda suddenly felt something loose, and before she could react the metal panel below her gave way and she fell. Thankfully it was only a fall of three metres, so she wasn’t injured. However, when Amanda looked up, she saw she had accidentally crashed a meeting of about five or so officers, and her stomach sank. “...Crap.”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">The officers drew their weapons. “Get her!”</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">[FAIL]</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">Fatty.</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <a class="" href="#section0010">
      <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span>
    </a>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Right</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">It had taken a while, but Amanda had managed to climb through the vent to the prison’s roof. Encountering a bend that led down, she kicked at the panel until it flew off. Climbing out, she walked over to the edge of the roof and looked down. She was about twenty-five or so stories up. “I can’t just jump, I’ll never survive that.” she mumbled to herself. Looking around, she spied a crate on the roof.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“This is oddly convenient…” Amanda stood on her toes and looked inside.</p><p> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">What does Amanda find inside?</span> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0013">
    <span class="da-editor-underline">Rope</span>
  </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208109/chapters/69124212#workskin">
    <span class="da-editor-underline">Parachute</span>
  </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208109/chapters/69124281#workskin">
    <span class="da-editor-underline">Jetpack</span>
  </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208109/chapters/69124368#workskin">
    <span class="da-editor-underline">Plungers</span>
  </a>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Rope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda found what seemed to be a stand for a harpoon. After assembling it and setting it up on the roof, she pressed the launch button to fire off the harpoon. She heard it thud into the ground below. “Now to slide my way to freedom.”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">She grabbed onto the rope and began sliding down. However the contact between her hands and the rope soon began heating her hands up, resulting in pain. “Ow ow ow ow ow…”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">About ten seconds after she began sliding the pain became too unbearable to withstand any longer and she had to let go, falling to the ground.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">After coming to, she stood up and dusted herself off. She was covered in scrapes, but was otherwise alright. “I did it! I’m free!” she exclaimed, fistbumping the air in celebration.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">She failed to notice the armoured money van behind her until it was too late.</p><p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">[FAIL]</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">This seems awfully familiar...</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <a class="" href="#section0012">
      <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span>
    </a>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Parachute</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda took the parachute’s pack out and strapped it on, before walking over the edge of the roof. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, before allowing gravity to carry her off the roof.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">After a few seconds of falling she pulled on the rip cord to deploy the parachute. The pack opened and a number of items flew out, such as a frying pan, a bowling ball, a bottle of Coca-Cola and a piece of blue paper, but no parachute.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Wait… where’s the parachute?.” Amanda thought to herself just before impact.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Ouch…” she groaned. She pulled herself up. She had a few broken bones and many scrapes. “How did I survive that?” she wondered.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">She wasn’t wondering for long, as the bowling ball soon slammed into her head, pulverising her brain and killing her.</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">[FAIL]</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">I think that was just a regular backpack.</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">See what happens when you assume?</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <a class="" href="#section0012">
      <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span>
    </a>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Jetpack</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">After retrieving the jetpack and strapping it on, Amanda walked over to the roof of the prison. The trans girl pressed the power button to activate the jetpack… only for the engines to short out on her.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Great. This thing doesn’t-”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Before Amanda could finish her sentence, the engine roared to life.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">In an instant the trans girl was sent flying around in the sky at a rapid, uncontrollable pace zipping loops, twirls and every move in the book. After flying around for a few seconds, she was able to to gain some control, but ended up crash-landing into the prison…</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">...more specifically, the very cell she had just escaped from, just as repairman Harold Ronson was replacing the bar.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Oh look, you’re back.” greeted Harold.</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">[FAIL]</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">It takes many hours of jetpack training before you’re able to operate one.</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <a class="" href="#section0012">
      <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span>
    </a>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Plungers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda pulled out a set of plungers. “Hmm…”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">An idea began forming in her head. She stuck one of the plungers to the ground and tested the resulting vacuum, which proved to be strong. “Perhaps I could scale down with these plungers?”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">She walked over to the roof, got down and carefully lowered herself so she was holding onto the roof with only one hand. She pushed the plunger in her other hand into the wall, and let go with her holding hand. Sure enough, the plunger proved capable of holding her weight.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Looking good…”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">She began carefully descending the wall of the prison using the plungers. Once she was at the bottom, she let go and dropped to the ground.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Alright! I’m free!”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Now a free woman, Amanda Anderson ran off into the sunset, away from the place she was locked up in.</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">Amanda Anderson has achieved the rank:</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">Sneaky Escapist</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28848804/chapters/70764765">
    <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">Go to the next episode</span></strong>
  </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <a class="" href="#section0001"> <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Try for a different ending</span> </a> </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. NrG Drink</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Amanda pulled out a blue bottle with a logo reading “NrG” on it. She read out the text on the bottle.</p><p>
  <em>NrG:</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ever wanted to be Superman for a day? Just gulp this drink down and you’ll be feeling as super as he gets! Unfortunately we can’t make you fly. We’re still working on that…</em>
</p><p>Amanda stared at the bottle for a second. “Seems like an exaggeration, but I suppose it’s worth a try.” She unscrewed the lid and raised the bottle to her mouth, gulping down the entire drink in one go. She felt her heart rate speed up and a throbbing feeling in her head.</p><p>She sighed to catch her breath before throwing the bottle away. To her surprise, the bottle seemed to slow down as it fell before eventually stopping just before it hit the floor. Amanda looked at the bottle, surprised, before turning back to the cell door.</p><p>“I guess the drink is altering my perception of time. If that’s the case, then does it grant me anything else?” She walked up to the cell door and gave one of the bars a push. In another surprise to her, the bar simply bent without Amanda putting in any effort. “So I have super strength as well… This should make things simple.”</p><p>She pushed the edges of the bar out of the way and walked out of her cell. Proceeding down the hallway, she stopped where Rupert and Dave had been chatting. Her altered time perception meant that as far as Amanda was concerned, the two officers were just standing there frozen.</p><p>“Time to get back at him for that joke.” Amanda uttered. She picked Rupert up by the torso and began carrying him away from Dave, heading for the stairs for the ground floor.</p><p>At the ground floor, the first thing Amanda took notice of was a trash can next to the notice board. “I reckon your joke was pretty trashy!” Amanda joked as she threw Rupert into the can head-first. She then walked over to a box of doughnuts, picked one up, and chowed it down.</p><p>“My time here is done.” She walked over to the doors of the prison and easily forced them aside, stepping out. “Well then. That was pretty eas-!”</p><p>All of a sudden Amanda felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her chest and clutched it. She stumbled around as her vision turned white…</p><p>..before she collapsed onto her knees, and then onto the asphalt, dead.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>[FAIL]</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>NrG: Side effects include nausea, headaches, rapid heartbeat and possibilities of stroke and/or heart attack.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Hmm… Well that’s good to know.</strong>
</p><p>
  <a href="#section0001">
    <strong>Go back</strong>
  </a>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Teleporter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda pulled out a… familiar device.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“This is the teleporter I used in one of the attempts to get into the bank.” She shrugs. “Oh well, second time lucky, right?”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda pressed the green panels three times and then the centre red button. Her vision went white, and then she found herself outside. “Wow, it actually worked! I’m free!” she celebrated.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Ready…” said a voice. Amanda turned to the source of the voice. She saw an officer with a pistol, and a police captain, as well as many marksmanship targets, and realised, to her horror, she was in the prison’s shooting range!</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">BANG!</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">It took a second for Jonas Noogan to realise he had shot Amanda by accident. He and Captain Roland Canterbury hissed in horror at what had happened.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Oooo… man…”</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">[FAIL]</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">You just can’t seem to get the hang of that thing, can you?</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <a class="" href="#section0001">
      <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span>
    </a>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Rocket Launcher</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda pulled out an army green circular object with a grip on the bottom and a scope on the top.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“What is this?” she asked. The devices suddenly flew up out of her hands and extended out a barrel and head, revealing itself as a rocket launcher.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Oh, it’s a rocket launcher.” Amanda began chuckling evilly. “Those officers are SO in for it now!”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">She aimed the launcher at the cell door and squeezed the trigger, a rocket firing out. It slammed through the food delivery hatch and shot down the hallway.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">At the end of the hallway, repairman Harold Ronson was fixing a U-shaped vent while blasting music through his headphones. He bent down to pick up a spanner, and as he did so the rocket flew into one of the vent’s openings and somehow got redirected through, flying out the other end. Then it somehow, defying the laws of physics, turned back into Amanda’s cell and struck the trans girl in the face, blowing her to smithereens.</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">[FAIL]</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">Uh… way to aim, buddy...</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <a class="" href="#section0001">
      <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span>
    </a>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Drill</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Reaching in, Amanda pulled out something large. It appeared to be a massive drill. “How did they fit a drill in that small cake?” Amanda wondered. She noticed the rip cord on the side of the drill. “That must be how it’s activated.” It took her a few pulls of the rip cord, but eventually, the drill began spinning. It made short work of the concrete, pulling Amada through as it plowed down through the floors.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">SMASH!</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda took a second to come to. She picked herself up and took a look around. She now seemed to be in a bathroom on a lower floor. It was dark in this bathroom, and the door was boarded off by two planks of wood. The drill had somehow failed to drill through the ceramic, and lay smashed on the ground.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Okay, I’m closer to the exit…” Amanda muttered. With the hole now above her providing lighting, Amanda was able to make out two tools.</p><p> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">What does Amanda use?</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0021"> <span class="da-editor-underline">Opacitator</span> </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0022"> <span class="da-editor-underline">Crowbar</span> </a>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Opacitator</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda saw a rectangular-shaped device on the floor, and picked it up. “Perhaps this thing could be useful.” She turned the device around to look for any text, and there was on the back:</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <em>
    <span class="da-editor-italic">Opacitator Instructions:</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <em>
    <span class="da-editor-italic">Just move the blue slider to the right and you’ll become as opaque (That means “see-through” for all you uneducated idiots) as you want! Not only that, but the more opaque you get, the easier it will be for you to pass through solid objects!</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <em>
    <span class="da-editor-italic">GADGET GABE APPROVED</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“That’s not what opaque means, genius, but whatever. This will be useful.” Amanda turned the device back around to the front, where she saw the opaque slider on the left. She pushed it to the right, and the device duly turned her transparent. She began slowly drifting down, through the other floors.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Almost there!” she thought to herself as she reached the prison’s ground floor. However, when she reached the floor, she sank through that too!</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Wait, I’m sinking through the ground too?!” Amanda realised. “Wait, no no no no no no!” she said panickingly as she sank towards the Earth’s core and a fiery death.</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">[FAIL]</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">You’d think something like that would come up in the beta testing.</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <a class="" href="#section0020">
      <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span>
    </a>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Crowbar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda noticed a crowbar on the ground and picked it up. “Where could I use this thing?” she wondered. Just then she saw a drain on the ground. “Question answered.”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">She used the crowbar to lever off the drain’s cover and then climbed in. “So, what am I going to do after I get out of here? The law will be after me. Guess I’ll be stuck in a life of crime...” Just then she felt something loose beneath her, and before she could react to this the underside of the pipe gave way! Amanda fell five metres onto the floor, landing on her back. “Owie…” she groaned.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">She looked up to see something that alarmed her - two armed officers!</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Uhh… GAH!”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda hastily scrambled to her feet and fled down the hallway, with the officers drawing their assault rifles and chasing her. Amanda heard bullets riddle the floor and columns around her. “I need to act fast!” she thought.</p><p> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">What does Amanda do?</span> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0023"> <span class="da-editor-underline">Do Nothing</span> </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0025">
    <span class="da-editor-underline">Dodge Left</span>
  </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0024"> <span class="da-editor-underline">Dodge Right</span> </a>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Do Nothing (Prison Hall)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda continued running, hoping the officers would fail to hit her…</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">...but alas, the officers turned out to be good shots, and Amanda was struck by multiple bullets in the head and torso, killing her.</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">[FAIL]</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">Try dodging the bullets, n00b!</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <a class="" href="#section0022">
      <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span>
    </a>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Dodge Right</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda swiftly stepped to the right to get out of the bullets’ path, but she failed to look where she was going, and she ended up running into one of the concrete pillars.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Ow…” she groaned as the officers caught up with her.</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">[FAIL]</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">Don’t worry, Amanda! I heard prison dentists are great!</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <a class="" href="#section0022">
      <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span>
    </a>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Dodge Left</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda swiftly stepped to the left to get out of the bullets’ path, but the officers were still in hot pursuit. Amanda saw that the wall at the end of the hallway was fast approaching. “I need a way to shake them off…” she thought.</p><p> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">What does Amanda do at the intersection?</span> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0026"> <span class="da-editor-underline">Do Nothing</span> </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0027"> <span class="da-editor-underline">Turn Left</span> </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0028">
    <span class="da-editor-underline">Wall Kick</span>
  </a>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Do Nothing (Prison Intersection)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">One would expect Amanda to slam straight into the concrete wall. And one is correct. That is precisely what happened.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Ow…”</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">[FAIL]</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">Amanda, it’s always a good idea to watch where you’re going.</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">Especially if you’re running away from the cops...</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <a class="" href="#section0025">
      <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span>
    </a>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Turn Left</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda turned left and continued running down the hallway, the officers still tailing her. Unfortunately she only made it several steps before her right leg clipped her left, causing her to trip and slam into the floor.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Ow…” she groaned as the officers caught up with her.</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">[FAIL]</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">lol Brawl reference! :D</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <a class="" href="#section0025">
      <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span>
    </a>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Wall Kick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Once Amanda reached the wall she lept up to perform a wall kick. Using the acquired momentum from the wall kick she sailed over the officers, leaving them confused, and continued down the hallway to the right. Soon Amanda saw another left turn and took it, and she saw what she had been coveting - the exit to the prison!</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">However Amanda had one last obstacle to overcome - Captain Ed Roberts, the chief of police at West Mesa Penitentiary, and his trusty AR-15. Amanda stopped two metres or so in front of the captain. Four police officers arrived from other sections of the prison and drew their firearms at Amanda. The two officers chasing her caught up with her and also joined the standoff.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at the captain. He scowled at her and aimed his rifle at her. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. There were no sounds aside from breathing. It was Roberts who finally broke the slience. “Nice try, inmate…”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">What does Amanda do?</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr"> </p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0029"> <span class="da-editor-underline">Do Nothing</span> </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0030">
    <span class="da-editor-underline">Use Reflexes</span>
  </a>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Do Nothing (Prison Entrance)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Roberts pulled the trigger and launched a hail of bullets at Amanda, filling her with more holes than Swiss cheese in a shooting gallery.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“...but your escape attempt ends here.” he said coldly as Amanda fell to the ground lifeless.</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">[FAIL]</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">Come on, Amanda! You were so close!</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <a class="" href="#section0028">
      <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span>
    </a>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Use Reflexes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Roberts pulled the trigger, but to his surprise Amanda was faster! Her reflexes kicked in and in two-fifths of a second she managed to bend down to avoid all of the bullets! Not only that, she caught his final bullet, did a graceful spin in the air and threw it back at him, knocking his rifle out of his hands!</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">The officers were all stunned and shaken by this turn of events. Amanda made a finger gun and brought it up to her mouth, fauxing blowing it out. The officers all stumbled, shaken by what Amanda pulled off. She strolled in a circle with her chest out confidently. She made a fake shooting noise as the faked shooting a bullet with her finger gun. This prompted all of the officers to throw their guns down and put their hands up in fear.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“How humiliating. You outnumbered a girl seven to one, and she defeated you.” she taunted. She turned to the exit. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be taking my leave.” Still intimidated, Roberts stepped to the side and allowed Amanda to exit West Mesa Penitentiary.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda took in a breath as she walked through the doors. “Ahh… sweet freedom.”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Looking around, she saw a police car parked in the parking lot, the officer who owned the vehicle having foolishly left his car keys on the bonnet. Snatching them up, Amanda entered the vehicle, started up the engine, and drove away.</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">Amanda Anderson has achieved the rank:</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">Badass Bust Out</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28848804/chapters/70764765">
    <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">Go to the next episode</span></strong>
  </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <a class="" href="#section0001"> <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Try for a different ending</span> </a> </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Cellphone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Reaching in, Amanda pulled out an iPhone. “Hmm… maybe there is a helpful contact here…”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Opening the Phone app, she scrolled through the contacts looking for anyone helpful. Upon reaching the W section, she spied someone that could be very useful - Felix White, the city’s most prominent defence attorney.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Maybe he could help me clear my name.” Amanda muttered as she tapped the button.</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <em> <span class="da-editor-italic">September 9th, 12:53 PM</span> </em>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <em> <span class="da-editor-italic">District Court</span> </em>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <em> <span class="da-editor-italic">Courtroom No. 4</span> </em>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Judge Hubert Brown struck his gavel against the striking board.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Witness, please continue your testimony.”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Witness Winston Davis nodded.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Okay. I was riding alongside my partner in the armoured van when suddenly… we spotted a bag on the side of the road. We got out and eventually decided to throw the bag in with the others. We didn’t know there was someone hidin’ in there!”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“OBJECTION!” another voice roared. Felix looked confident. So, the defendant crawled into that bag in order to break into the bank, is that correct?”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Is it not obvious?” replied a voice with a Russian accent. This one belonged to Vladimir VonBraun, the prosecuting attorney and Felix’s nemesis.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Is it really that obvious?” countered Felix. “I have proof that the defendant didn’t hide herself in that bag.”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Well then, what are you waiting for? Present this evidence already!” demanded Judge Brown.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">What evidence does Felix present?</span> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0032"> <span class="da-editor-underline">A doctor’s analysis of the injuries Amanda suffered in the bag</span> </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208109/chapters/69379650#workskin">
    <span class="da-editor-underline">The bag Amanda hid in</span>
  </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0032"> <span class="da-editor-underline">The teleporter Amanda used in the Teleporter fail</span> </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0032"> <span class="da-editor-underline">Felix’s attorney badge</span> </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0032"> <span class="da-editor-underline">The bank’s floor plans</span> </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="#section0032"> <span class="da-editor-underline">Security footage of Amanda’s break-in</span> </a>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Wrong Evidence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Take that!” yelled Felix as he presented the evidence.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“What… is… this?” asked Brown, confused.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“It’s evidence.” Felix replied.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“...And how exactly does this prove anything?” Brown questioned.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Felix fell silent for a second. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, uh, I was just kidding. Let me try aga-”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Brown slammed his gavel, disappointed. “This is time for jokes! I see no reason to further prolong this trial!” Amanda sighed in an equal amount of disappointment, knowing her attorney had failed her. “I find the defendant, Amanda Anderson…”</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">GUILTY</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <span class="da-editor-bold">Amanda, what kind of third-rate lawyer did you hire?</span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong>
    <a class="" href="#section0031">
      <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Go back</span>
    </a>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Disguising Bag</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“Take that!” yelled Felix as he presented the evidence.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Brown recognised the object. “Is… is that the bag the defendant hid in?”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Felix nodded. “Yes, but there is one thing that’s been bothering me.” He scratched his chin. “If the defendant really was hiding in this bag, then…” He slammed his hands on the podium. “<strong><span class="da-editor-bold">How did she tie the knot from the outside of the bag?!</span></strong>”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Vladimir dropped the diamond he had been examining. “What?”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“If she was INSIDE the bag, it would have been impossible for her to tie the knot from the outside!” Felix explained.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“But then, how did she do it?” Brown questioned.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Felix smiled confidently. “It’s simple… she didn’t.”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Vladimir was taken aback. “What?! What are you saying?”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“I’m saying my client wasn’t hiding in that bag at all! She was stuffed in there! BY THIS VERY WITNESS!” Felix countered, pointing to Winston.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Winston recoiled in surprise. “What?!”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Felix pulled out the doctor’s analysis and began to examine it. “As you can by this doctor’s analysis, the defendant took quite the beating. While she was in the bag, she was unconscious!”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Vladimir realised his client was in trouble. “This… this is absurd!”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“The witness attempted to dispose of the body, so he left the defendant in the bag, knowing he would drive by on the way back to the bank. When the witness and his partner passed the bag, he convinced his partner to throw the bag in with the others.”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Brown looked confused. “But, why would he do that?”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Felix remained calm and collected. “Why, to dispose of the body of course. There are millions of bags of money in that bank, and the witness knew it would take a long time before the victim was found. But unfortunately for the witness, his victim woke up and tried to escape from her tomb. She was arrested on the spot and the witness thought everything was over. <strong><span class="da-editor-bold">But it’s coming back to haunt him now!</span></strong>”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Winston realised he was doomed. Vladimir couldn’t counter Felix’s arguments, and he had no proof to support his own case. “You guy’s can’t… He can’t… This… <strong><span class="da-editor-bold">THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!</span></strong>”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Five minutes later, Brown slammed his gavel once more as Winston was taken off for questioning. “Well, that certainly was an interesting trial. However I am now ready to deliver my verdict.”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda smiled, knowing what was coming.</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">“I find the defendant, Amanda Anderson…”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">NOT GUILTY.</span> </strong>
</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Amanda stepped out of the court. She took in a breath, savouring the sweet smell of the air. “That went very well.” Amanda thought. She had been declared not guilty, and a new life seemed in sight. “Time to go improve myself.”</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">Suddenly, an armoured money van raced past. “But first…” Amanda promptly gave chase down the street.</p><hr/><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">Amanda Anderson has achieved the rank:</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">Lawyered Up</span> </strong>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28848804/chapters/70764765">
    <strong> <span class="da-editor-bold">Go to the next episode</span></strong>
  </a>
</p><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <strong> <a class="" href="#section0001"> <span class="da-editor-bold da-editor-underline">Try for a different ending</span> </a> </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>